


Lost Without You

by Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21



Category: LEGO Monkie Kid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Don't worry he gets hugs and fruit and family everything is fine, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, For real I have edited nothing skkmdfoweaf, Gen, Gods I need to write more Sandy he's great, Hugs, I have no idea what I'm doing, It wouldn't be my writing if there wasn't improvement lol, Mk's a total sweetheart and I love him, No beta we die like Monkies, Pigsy and Tang are oblivious and Sandy has the braincell, Platonic Relationships, Posting this before i lose my nerve and leave it in my drafts forever sldkmwoef, Rated for Wukong's headspace XD, Reincarnation, Wukong contemplates death a few times, but… like… depressed XD, good luck, he gets better though dw, just the the fact that he can’t die, not suicidal but just giving a heads up, there are probably so many grammar mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21/pseuds/Leonardo_Charles_BlueWood_21
Summary: Pigsy, Tripitaka, and Sandy decided to get reincarnated. They’ve been alive for centuries and they decided it was time to move on, and to try something different.Monkey didn’t take the news too well.(I keep forgetting to write the dragon rip)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 70





	Lost Without You

**Author's Note:**

> Having read JTTW I have a lot of trouble merging the characters together with their Monkie kid counterparts because they're just so different, but my brain said reincarnation Wukong angst, I blacked out, and when I came to this was written and somehow I managed to make it work in my head so *yeets this at you all* 
> 
> AKA: I had a thought, and uh... here we are, 16k later and I still don't know why I started writing this, good luck reading through all this nonsense LOL I DUNNO WHAT TO TELL YA GUY

“You’re _what?!”_

Pigsy just looked at him from where he sat next to him on the dark stone that sat on the large cliff edge where they always met up. 

“ _Why?_ ” Wukong demanded incredulously. He couldn’t imagine wanting to-- how could they want to--? Panic rose in him for a second as he realized that they were thinking of _leaving_ . No. Not _thinking_ . Pigsy was _telling_ him they were leaving. 

Pigsy sighed. “Look, big brother… I’ve been alive a long time. It’s time for me to move on. I’m ready to do something different.” 

“But _why?!_ ” Wukong demanded again, jumping to his feet and glaring at him in disbelief, a hot feeling of anger he hadn’t felt in a long time bubbling inside of him and replacing the panic with rage. “There’s nothing wrong with this life! There’s nothing wrong with who you are right now! How could you want to--?” 

“It’s already been decided,” Pigsy interrupted him, unphased by his yelling. 

Wukong stared at him, a cold crushing fist wrapping around his heart and squeezing. 

“You’ll forget,” he said, clenching his fists pretending it was out of anger and not to keep them from shaking. “You won't remember.” 

_You won’t remember_ me _._

“I know,” Pigsy said. “That’s kinda the point. I can’t move on if I can’t let go. I’ve been doing the same things for centuries, this is as far as I can go in this life; I’m ready to try something else.”

“So try something else!” Wukong explained. “Try anything else!” 

_Don’t leave me alone!_

“I’m sorry, big brother,” Pigsy said. “But like I said, it’s been decided.” 

The broken pieces were slipping away, out from under his feet. Everything just felt quiet and empty. 

“Master and Sandy too?” 

Pigsy nodded. 

His anger sparked and he snarled. “And they couldn’t come tell me that themselves?” 

“They were going to but--” 

“I don’t want to hear excuses!”

Pigsy didn’t flinch back at his outburst like any other sane being would have done. He only looked at him sadly, like he’d been expecting it. It made his fur itch and a scream start to build at the back of his throat. Pigsy’s expression remained unchanging. Sad, but concrete, unmoving. He wasn’t changing his mind. None of them were. They were all leaving their lives behind--leaving _him_ behind, _forgetting_ about him and everything they went through together. 

He turned away from him, tail lashing about in anger and distress as he paced back and forth. 

How could he not have seen it coming? What had he missed? He hadn’t noticed any restlessness with anyone the last time he’d seen them, everything had seemed normal! So _why_ were they suddenly wanting this? It wasn’t something to be decided rashly, they had to have been considering this for a long time, talking to one another and discussing it...

Had they even planned on telling him at all? Or had he just been an afterthought, something tacked on at the end after the decision was already made. Had they even cared? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or break something. How could he have _missed it?_

“You could come with us.” The suggestion was quiet. 

He stilled. 

The earth itself seemed to stop breathing, and his ear twitched at the abrupt silence. 

He snapped to look at Pigsy. 

His brother held his gaze. He didn’t look like he was joking. If anything he looked tired, and resigned. There was nothing in his expression to betray anything other than the fact that the offer was genuine. 

He was serious. 

Anger bubbled up again, rising in his chest and burning out through his eyes. 

“Become mortal? _Forget?_ ” The very concept was abhorrent, disgusting, _insulting_ . He barked out a ugly laugh and narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Unlike you, I don’t _want_ to forget. I don’t _need_ to forget. I _like_ who I am. I don’t need to run from anything, least of all _myself_ , and if you’re all too cowardly to stay and want to leave everything behind then that’s _fine._ ” 

He turned towards the heavens. “ _FINE!_ ” he screamed, his voice echoing off the sky and filling the valley with his rage. He hoped Tripitaka and Sandy could hear it. Hoped the whole of Heaven heard it. If his staff wasn’t currently sealing away someone that used to be one of his closest friends, he would have used it to smash something. Preferably the entire valley.

His shoulders heaved and he clenched his hands into fists, eyes burning. 

“Fine!” he shouted again. “You go ahead and leave, and run like a _coward_. I don’t want anything to do with any of you anymore anyways.” 

“Don’t do this, big brother,” Pigsy said. “Don’t be angry.” 

“I’m not angry,” he said, grinning to prove it. “You can do whatever you want. I don’t care. Go on, start a new life, forget who you are! It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not going to tell you what to do.” 

_I’m not going to ask you to stay._

He grit his teeth as he turned away again. 

“Don’t leave like this,” Pigsy pleaded. “It will stay with you forever if you do.” 

“I’ll leave however I please,” Wukong snarled at him. He jumped upward, the force of his leap making the ground give way under him, and he left a small crater behind him as he rocketed into the air. 

“Wukong!” Pigsy shouted after him, his voice barely audible through the roar in his ears. 

Wukong ignored him, landing on the cloud he summoned and then hurtling away at a speed that tore down trees as he sped past. He could hear the forest spirits alarmed cries, but he didn’t care, anger and betrayal and fury propelling him onward. The speed he went never bothered him, but somehow this time his eyes were watering. He wasn’t worried about him catching up, Pigsy had always been slower than him. 

It wasn’t like he’d be chasing after him anyways. 

  
  
  
  


He didn’t come to say goodbye the day they left. But he could feel it when it happened. 

He stayed in his mountain, hidden behind a waterfall and no one came to get him. 

Fine. That was just fine. He didn’t need them. 

He didn’t need _anyone_. 

They didn’t matter to him anyways. They were as good as dead to him. He didn’t care what happened to them next. He hoped their next existence was miserable and horrible and terrible and scary and that they were lonely and alone, just like they’d left him. They… 

They left him. 

His anger drained out of him, leaving nothing but a large gaping empty chasm inside his chest, his heart heavy and cold like the stone he’d come from. 

He was alone. 

  
  
  
  
  


Tang Sanzang, Sha Wujing, Zhu Bajie were reincarnated, and the Monkey King vanished off the face of the earth. 

Some heavenly beings theorized that he had gone with them; others argued his scream of rage provoked Buddah’s wrath and that he was sealed under a mountain again or something of the like. Only Buddah and a few others knew of his true whereabouts though, but they chose not to make it common knowledge and left him to his chosen solitude. 

He was mourning. And they would be wise to let him be. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Wukong didn’t believe in coincidences. He’d been alive far too long for that, experienced the humour of Buddah and the universe too many times to think there was such a thing. 

Which was why he wasn’t sure why he was surprised when he managed to pick the one person that just happened to be connected to the reincarnation of his family. 

He didn’t notice at first, only having seen them from a distance; his attention was mostly focused on Mk, everyone else was simply a side matter. He really didn’t even really _hear_ Mk say their names until he was introducing them and they were standing face to face. 

Sure, he’d heard them in passing, but it had never really registered. He’d had lots of practice ignoring things that reminded him of things he didn’t want to think about. Figured it would come back to bite him. 

“I want you to meet my friends! Pigsy’s and Tang are actually in the kitchen right now, but I can go get them in a minute. And this is Sandy, and Mo!” 

The previously unnamed blue giant waved at him from where he was sitting down, crouched over a table, playing cards with his small matching blue cat. 

As far as Wukong could tell the cat was winning.

“Hey,” he said in a voice that was so familiar despite the fact it had been centuries since he’d heard it. 

His throat closed up and his feet were rooted to the ground. He barely registered Mk calling to the others in the kitchen. 

Tang, Pigsy and Sandy. 

Of course. 

There was no such thing as coincidences. 

He was silent for too long, and Mk appeared in front of him, looking worried. 

“Hey, Monkey King, are you okay?” 

He tore his eyes away from the ghost, who had gone back to playing cards, completely oblivious to his internal conflict because he didn’t _remember_. 

None of them remembered and they were here, and he was going to have to look at all of them and pretend it wasn’t shredding his heart and mercilessly stomping on the broken pieces that he was still picking up all these centuries later. 

“Yeah,” he managed to say. “Just uh…” his eyes darted around the shop, suddenly feeling too small and crapped, like the walls were closing in, and scratched the back of his head to hide his shaking hand. “Just remembered something kinda important that I forgot I needed to take care of back home.” He forced a smile. “I’ll have to meet everybody else another time.” 

Mk’s face fell, and he felt awful about putting that kind of look on the kid’s face, but he couldn’t do this. 

“Oh,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “Well, that’s okay.” He offered him a smile. “Later then!” 

“Uh huh,” Wukong managed to say thinly, but any other response died in his throat when the other two emerged from the kitchen, talking. He could feel the way his face paled and a chill stretched across his shoulders and the back of his neck despite his fur and the warmth of the shop. 

Tang’s eyes connected with his and he stopped breathing. 

His eyes widened in surprise, but there was no recognition. Nothing in those familiar eyes to say he knew him as anything other than a figure from myths and legends, no trace of the friend he used to be. 

That was what probably got him. The eyes were the same, but nothing else was. 

He was out of the noodle shop before he could even think about reacting properly, jumping on a cloud and shooting away as fast as he could, not caring that he might have to explain himself later, or they might be suspicious or it might hurt the kid more, he just needed to get _away_. 

Centuries later and it still hurt like they’d only left him yesterday. 

  
  
  
  


Tang blinked at the spot the _actual_ Monkey King had been a moment before. “Was that--?” he couldn’t even finish the question, mind flailing as he gaped after him. 

Pigsy snorted, completely unfazed by their immortal visitor, and made his way over to where Sandy was sitting with a bowl of noodles in his hands. “What had him in such a rush?” 

“I don’t know,” Mk said, looking after him with a frown. “He said he forgot to take care of something.” 

“Must’ve been important judging the speed he was going.” He set the bowl down on the table in front of Sandy, and then straightened up stretching a little before planting his hands on his hips with an annoyed expression. “Too bad then. I wanted to have some _words_ with that monkey.” 

The tone sounded slightly threatening and Tang turned to him spluttering. “You can’t just _have words_ with _the_ Monkey King _,_ Pigsy! He’s a centuries old being that fought heaven itself and technically _won! Several times!_ ” 

Pigsy scoffed again. “Immortal or no, I’d like to hit him upside the head with one of my frying pans for putting the kid in danger.” 

“Pigsy!” Mk exclaimed at the same time Tang did, aghast, the both of them looking at him like he’d lost his mind. 

“What? He could take it.” 

“That’s not the point! You can’t just say that!” 

“He’s just a monkey.” 

There was more outraged spluttering and another unified cry of: “Pigsy!” 

“What!?” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mk was worried about Monkey King. 

He’d been quieter ever since he’d tried to introduce him to his friends; his mentor had said something about forgetting to do something, but it sounded like a textbook excuse, Pigsy never would have bought it. He didn’t want to assume anything, but it was pretty obvious he was avoiding meeting Pigsy, Tang and Sandy properly. What he couldn’t figure out was _why_. 

Any time he tried to bring them up, he would change the subject, or distract him with something cool that he knew would make him forget about the question he’d been asking, and he couldn't help but think there was something more going on that he wasn’t telling him.

He seemed okay with Mei, so it wasn’t like he had a problem with them being Mk’s friends or anything like that. (At least he didn’t think so.) Though he did look at her sadly sometimes when he thought they weren’t looking, like she reminded him of somebody, or something sad. 

The point was, there had to be a reason he was avoiding Sandy, Tang and Pigsy specifically. He was worried asking outright might be overstepping though, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk that. Being Monkey King’s successor meant too much to him to recklessly endanger that relationship, and he didn’t want to accidentally drive a wedge between them just when they were finally starting to get closer. 

He watched Sun Wukong skitter away from the noodle shop after dropping him off, immediately shifting into a beetle and flying away once Tang had peeked out the shop window to say hello. If he didn’t know any better he’d say he was running away. 

Yeah. Mk was worried. 

He just wasn’t sure what to do about it. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Pigsy had been right. 

Centuries later and he regretted leaving the mountain angry that day. He regretted how he reacted. He regretted not going to say goodbye to Tripitaka and Sandy. It hurt so much more to remember when no one else did. To watch the empty look in their eyes when they looked at him. To see his friends, his _family_ , looking at him like he was a stranger. 

Somehow Buddah had ensured they had each other still. Despite the chances they’d all found each other in the next life. All naturally drawn towards one another, or placed near each other so they would be reunited. All except him, because he had been too angry to consider… 

No. He hadn’t been ready. He still wasn’t sure he was ready, or if he’d ever be, but... he thought at times it might be easier if he didn’t remember. 

He had considered following them once, but by the time his anger had faded it was far too late. If he were to go there would be too much of a gap, and there was no guarantee they’d even ever meet again. And now they were right in front of him, and they didn’t know him, and it made it so much worse. 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. 

They’d already moved on. He couldn’t imagine a life without them, but he’d been living a life without them for centuries. Still, somehow the thought of trying to start again, to build something new was...

Terrifying. 

He hated being afraid of something. 

And he hated the feeling of jealousy that was building in him when he saw Mk with his family even more. It was impossible to miss the irony that he had replaced himself. The group hadn’t been complete without a Sun Wukong, so instead of joining them himself he had quite literally made them a new one. Now they were whole again, and he was still alone. 

Was it stupid to think that? It felt pretty stupid. Mk likely would have found his way to Pigsy’s shop with or without his help. He couldn't give himself all the credit for them knowing each other, or for Mk fitting into the group so well like he was always meant to be there… 

That knowledge didn’t stop him from hurting though. 

He didn’t hate the kid, and he didn’t regret picking him as a successor. Mk was the best thing to happen to him in centuries, and he was never going to be angry that he was happy. The kid deserved the world. And he just happened to have stumbled across the people that used to make up Wukong’s world. It wasn’t through any fault of his own. 

  
He could at least take solace in the fact that he knew the kid would be taken care of. Tang, Pigsy and Sandy were different, but they were still themselves at their core. Kind, compassionate, patient, loving. His family would take good care of Mk. They had been for a long time before he’d come along. They didn’t need him. 

Sometimes he had to wonder if they ever had in the first place. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Mk found him in the peach tree. 

He wasn’t munching on a peach or anything like he usually was when Mk found him there. Instead he was just laying curled up in the branches, with his back facing him, umoving. 

There were some monkey’s sitting around and on him, making concerned cooing noises. They were clearly worried, but Wukong didn’t look like he was intending on responding or reassuring them any time soon. 

Mk could hear the waterfall in the distance like always. The familiar atmosphere, warm from the sun that came through the opening above, was usually quick to put him at ease and help him relax, but this time was different, he could feel it. 

Mk bit his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth for a moment before climbing the tree. 

He’d gotten better at climbing things ever since he’d gotten Monkey King’s powers, though his balance was always a little off. He nearly fell off when he reached one of the bigger branches at the top, but managed to catch himself with only a small yelp of alarm. 

“I’m good! I’m fine! I got it, don’t worry,” he said, mostly to himself, but also to the monkey’s that had screeched when he’d slipped, as he finally got up onto the branch properly. The bark of the tree was a combination of rough and smooth, so it could be tricky to get a good hold if you grabbed the wrong place. 

The monkeys moved out of the way as he made his way forward towards Wukong where he was laying on his side. 

His arm was bent under his head, acting like a cushion and he was staring at the cave wall blankly. Mk wasn’t even sure he noticed him at first, but that was silly because Monkey King noticed everything. 

“Monkey King?” he said tentatively after a few moments of silence. 

“Training’s not till tomorrow, bud,” Wukong said quietly. 

“Oh, I know,” Mk rushed, flapping his hands a little. He wobbled a bit on the next step, and sat down next to him on the branch at his feet before he could lose his balance. He settled and leaned back on his arms on the large branch, starting to swing his feet. “I just thought you could use some company.” 

There was silence for a moment. 

“What makes you think that?” 

Mk tapped his feet together, shrugging. “You looked sad yesterday.” 

Wukong shifted, slightly, but didn’t sit up. “I’m not sad.” 

“Okay,” Mk said, and kept swinging his feet, humming a little. 

The quiet continued for a moment. 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Wukong finally said. More of a rhetorical question, judging from the tone, but Mk figured he’d answer anyway. 

He smiled brightly, even though he knew Monkey King wasn’t looking at him. “Nope!” 

Wukong sighed, curling up a little more. 

Mk kept humming and swinging his feet, looking around the cavern. 

He’d never actually been up in this particular tree. It was a nice view, even if there wasn’t much to see. The little house Wukong lived in had a few weathered looking places on the roof. He wondered if they’d be replacing shingles there eventually. 

The monkeys wandered over to Mk after a few minutes; one settled down on his lap and another clung to his back while it played with the loose ends of his headband. A third started grooming his hair after making itself at home on his shoulder. 

He’d found it a little odd at first when they’d started doing that, but he got used to it after a while. It was a way they showed that they’d accepted him into their family, and it made him feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

He started running his fingers through the fur of the monkey that was on his lap, and the others chattered happily at the action. 

He yawned once, then went back to swinging his legs and humming as he groomed the monkey. 

“You should go home if you’re tired,” Wukong said quietly, almost startling him. He hadn’t really expected him to say anything. 

“Nah,” Mk said, dismissively. “I’d much rather stay here, and keep you company.” 

“You’re bored out of your mind right now.” 

“Maybe.” 

Wasn’t enough to get him to leave when somebody he cared about was sad though. He could handle a little boredom. It actually wasn’t even that bad. The grooming felt kinda nice, which made him relax and helped it not feel as boring. He’d probably end up falling asleep like last time if he wasn’t careful though. 

Wukong sighed, finally pushing himself up off the branch and sitting up. Their arms were brushing with how close he was.

They sat in silence for a moment before Mk finally worked up the courage to ask him. 

“Why are you avoiding my friends?” 

He could feel the way Wukong stiffened. 

“I’m not.” 

Mk snorted. “Yes you are.” 

“I’m just busy.” 

“I don’t think that’s it.” 

“Well, what do you know anyway,” Wukong grumbled. “You’re just a kid.” 

“I know you’re sad,” Mk said quietly, picking at his lap monkey's fur. “And I know for some reason it has something to do with my friends.” 

“Does not.” 

“You ran away the first time I introduced you, and turned into a beetle yesterday to avoid talking to Tang.” 

Monkey King grimaced. “I just felt like being a beetle right that second is all.” 

“You told me you were allergic to noodles when I invited you to dinner last week. You’re immortal, you aren’t allergic to anything.” 

“Okay, true. I’m just more of a fresh fruit kind of guy is all.” 

“We could have gotten fruit for you.” 

“Didn’t want to make more work for you.” 

“You made me take out two months worth of garbage last week. You love giving me stuff to do.” 

“Look, kid,” Wukong rubbed his hand across his face. “I don’t know what to tell you.” 

“You’re avoiding them,” Mk said. “I just want to know why.” 

“Maybe it’s none of your business,” Wukong said sharply. 

The monkeys froze. Mk snapped his mouth shut. 

“Sorry,” Wukong apologized, almost immediately after, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so, his face screwing up in a grimace. He sighed, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m sorry. I just…” he hunched forward a little, not looking at him, and his arms came to wrap around himself. “I’d just rather not talk about it.” 

Mk pursed his lips, brows creased and looked down at the ground with a small frown on his face. “So there is something.” 

“Nothing you need to worry about. It doesn’t matter anyways.” 

“It seems like it matters to you.” 

Wukong was quiet for a moment. 

“It shouldn’t.” 

Mk waited for a moment before asking: “Why not?” 

“Because it happened a long time ago.” 

“What happened?” 

Wukong turned to look at him with a tired look. “I just said I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“If it happened a long time ago, and it still bothers you, then maybe you should.” 

He stared at him. 

Mk averted his eyes after a few seconds and went back to picking at the monkey’s fur. 

The monkey on his head hopped onto Wukong’s shoulders and started going through his fur, and the one on Mk’s lap raced off to another monkey that was chattering at a fruit it had picked, so he started picking at the ends of his jacket sleeves instead. 

“Maybe,” Wukong finally admitted, breaking the silence. “But I don’t think you're someone I should talk to about it.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m an immortal being with thousands of years of life experience, and you’re a mortal kid. It would be pretty messed up if I tried to use you as my therapist.” 

Oh. That made sense. 

“Sandy’s a good listener,” Mk offered. 

Wukong huffed. Then said quietly, almost absentmindedly: “Yeah he is.” 

Mk glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

The way he said it almost made it sound like he’d spoken to him before, but he knew for a fact that wasn’t the case. Monkey King was looking out across the cavern blankly again, with an expression similar to the one he’d been wearing when Mk had first sat down next to him. He decided to shrug it off and let it slide though. 

He’d pried enough for one day. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Pigsy finally caught the monkey one evening on the roof of his shop. 

He’d seen him vanish up there earlier. After a while it got easy to recognize the bird he usually took the shape of to keep an eye on them. He wasn’t sure if he felt annoyed at the spying, or relieved he was keeping an eye on Mk so the kid didn’t get in too much trouble. 

Mk had headed upstairs for the night, and Pigsy had just finished cleaning up the shop, so, after making sure to lock up properly, he pocketed his keys and climbed up the fire escape on the back of the building, taking care to be extra quiet as he went past Mk’s window so he didn’t disturb him, until he reached the top. 

The Monkey King was sitting on the edge of the roof. He was watching the sunset judging by the fact that he was faced in that direction. It was kinda nice. Orange and pink, still a little bit of blue out there. 

Pigsy pulled himself up over the ledge. 

“Hey,” he said, drawing his attention. 

His head snapped around to look at him and he almost looked mildly fearful for a moment, like he might run again, like he had dozens of times whenever Pigsy or anyone other than Mk or Mei had entered the room. 

Pigsy thought it was a bit strange that he hadn’t heard him coming. Everything he’d heard from Tang and Mk talking about him, gave the impression he couldn’t be snuck up on. 

Just as he thought he was going to shift into a bird and take off, like always, Sun Wukong surprised him by taking a deep breath, and turning back to the sunset, remaining where he was. 

“Hello,” he said, without looking back at him. “Pigsy, right?” 

His shoulders held some tension, and he was sitting a lot more stiffly than he’d been before he knew Pigsy was watching him. 

“I know you know my name,” Pigsy said, not bothering to try and keep some mild annoyance from bleeding into his voice. “You’ve hung around too long not to.” He didn’t need him to play dumb. That was just insulting to both of them. 

Pigsy waited for a response for a little bit, but when it didn’t come he sighed and made his way over to him. 

He seemed to get more tense but also looked more resigned the closer he got. It was an odd combination that left Pigsy mildly curious. But he wasn’t here to ask the monkey why he was weird. He was here about Mk. 

“Kid really looks up to you, you know,” he said as he stood next to him. 

He watched Sun Wukong glance at him, then fasten his eyes back to the sunset. 

“He’d do just about anything for you,” he continued, voice hardening. 

He seemed to hear the change in his voice because he finally turned to look at him fully, and kept his eyes on him this time, face a controlled neutral mask that made Pigsy think he was hiding something. But that wasn’t relevant right now. 

He fixed him in a stare. “If you _ever_ misuse that trust, I’ll hunt you down and end you; immortal or no.” 

He had the distant thought that Tang would have lost it if he knew he was talking to the Monkey King like that. Maybe he had some validity to his worries about Pigsy threatening all-powerful immortal beings, but he needed to be clear on this. Mk was more important than staying on the good side of a legend. 

And oddly enough he didn’t feel all that intimidated by him. 

Sun Wukong looked at him for a moment. His eyes seemed to soften a degree, and Pigsy could almost see the physical result of his defences dropping marginally in the way his shoulders seemed to drop an inch or two. He nodded once. 

“I’m glad he has you,” he said, looking down at the street below them. “It’s good you care.” 

Pigsy raised an eyebrow. 

Huh. 

He wasn’t sure how he was expecting him to respond, but this reaction was certainly surprising. He expected a glare maybe, or perhaps an offended look. Not… whatever that was. 

He still didn’t like the monkey. But he did feel himself relax slightly. 

“He’s a good kid.” 

“Yeah,” Sun Wukong agreed with a small huff. “He makes it easy to care, doesn’t he?” 

That made Pigsy snort. “He makes it hard not to.” 

His eyes somehow landed on his hands and he noticed they were shaking slightly. 

That… wasn’t normal for an immortal all-powerful being, was it? 

He almost felt concerned, but brushed the feeling aside. It wasn’t any of his business. He’d said what he wanted to, and now he needed to head back home so he could get to bed at a reasonable time and be ready to wake up and open the shop tomorrow. 

Though… this was someone important to his kid. As much as Pigsy disliked him, he meant the world to Mk. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Pigsy looked up, brows furrowing. “Huh?” 

Sun Wukong didn’t answer, or explain, and instead promptly shifted into a bird and flew away, leaving his cryptic apology hanging in the air. 

Pigsy stared after him for a moment, mixed between mildly concerned and more than a little unnerved. 

“Weird,” he muttered to himself, and made his way off the roof. 

Whatever. 

It was none of his business. 

  
  
  
  
  


Well... He’d apolgized. 

Hundreds of years too late, and Pigsy didn’t even know what for, but he’d done it. 

His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

It was mind-boggling. He’d fought heaven itself and a three minute conversation was what had the power to make him crumble.

He transformed back into himself once he was far enough from civilization and flew straight to flower fruit mountain, through the waterfall and the caverns of the until he reached his house. He didn’t pause to greet his monkey friends like he usually did, and instead headed inside and crawled directly into bed. 

He didn’t cry. He’d been done crying for centuries now. He just lay there, staring blankly at the wall. 

It hurt. He wasn’t sure it ever stopped hurting. He’d managed to mostly ignore it for a while, but it had never fully left. 

It was his own fault. Didn’t change the fact that it sucked. 

He pulled the covers over his head and curled up tightly under them. 

He didn’t move until Mk came by for training two days later. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Monkey King!” 

Wukong turned to see Tang running towards him, waving. 

This was not something he was _at all_ ready for. 

“Sorry,” he said as he approached. “Don’t really have time to talk. I’m just here to pick up Mk.” 

Tang’s face fell slightly, but then he shook his head, his expression shifted into something determined, and fixed him in a curious look. 

“Have we met before?” 

The world ground to a halt and Wukong’s nearly heart stopped. 

Did he... remember? 

No. No, there was no way. It didn’t work like that. It wasn’t possible for him to remember. There was another reason he was asking. Not because Wukong was familiar, or he felt like he knew him. That was naive to hope for something like that. 

He forced himself to breathe and gave him a relaxed smile. “No, I don’t think so. Why?” 

Tang tilted his head, looking at him thoughtfully. He hesitated for a moment before answering. 

“Because you look at me like you know me.” 

He waited too long to respond to that, and Tang’s brows creased.

He wanted to curse himself for his carelessness, but couldn’t find the energy to do so. He glanced away to where Mk was talking to Mei as he finished up throwing the garbage into the dumpster. 

“No,” he repeated quietly. “We’ve never met.” 

He could feel Tang’s skeptical gaze but kept his eyes on the two kids so he wouldn’t have to actually see the familiar expression. 

“Do I remind you of someone then?” 

Wukong’s mouth twitched at that. He wasn’t sure if he felt like laughing or crying. 

“Something like that.” 

Mk ran up to them, ready to go, and they left before Tang could ask anymore questions. 

Wukong was more careful to avoid him after that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


He was immortal. He couldn’t die. Literally, even if he tried (not that he ever would) he wasn’t sure it was possible. Even if someone hypothetically managed to kill him, he’d likely be able to just walk out of the underworld with no problem since his name wasn’t in the ledger anymore. 

He was practically indestructible, and strong enough to lift several mountains at once, but unfortunately he could still feel pain. Such as stomach cramps from not eating. He didn’t _need_ to eat. He could survive without food, but it was still fuel and he would still deteriorate without it. So all of the pain with none of the death. Lucky him. 

His stomach was reminding him of the fact rather strongly right at that moment, but he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. 

Funny. He hadn’t felt this terrible in centuries. 

“Monkey King?” Mk called from outside, his voice echoing through the cavern. 

He really should have told him he was heading out of town or something instead of just canceling training for a week. He couldn’t believe for a moment he thought the kid would just accept it and go about his life as normal. 

Dumb, kind, wonderful kid. 

“Monkey King?” Mk called again, sounding more worried this time. “Hello?” 

He should probably get up. 

Ugh, but he didn’t have the energy. He would really have just preferred if the kid had stayed home until he’d managed to pull himself together. 

He could hear Mk’s footsteps getting closer. 

He should get up. 

He curled up tighter under his blankets. 

Kid was probably getting worried. 

He should move. 

He didn’t want to move. 

“Monkey King?” 

“Move, Wukong,” he muttered, curling up tighter, trying to will himself out of bed. Which, unsurprisingly did absolutely nothing. 

He could hear his monkey’s chattering to Mk, probably leading him inside, judging by the way Mk was talking to them and sounding both confused and worried. 

“Inside? I dunno if I should--” stumbling footsteps, “--okay, yup, going inside. Alright.” 

His voice was a lot closer, and the thought of Mk seeing how terrible and pathetic he probably looked gave him enough panicked energy to shapeshift into a cat. 

Which was... not what he’d been aiming for, but it was something at least. He didn’t have the willpower to try anything different, so he accepted the form and curled up, hidden under the blankets, hoping that he was lucky enough that Mk wouldn’t notice him. 

Then maybe he could go back to dissociating and ignoring his issues. 

His little house didn’t exactly have any doors, he’d never really needed them, so he could hear his monkey’s as they pushed Mk through the halls and into his room through the empty doorframe. 

“Hello?” Mk said cautiously, as he stepped forward, the floorboards creaking under his feet a little. The monkey’s scattered about the room, knocking a few things and each other over as they settled onto shelves and up in the rafters. “M-Monkey King? Your friends let me in, I--” he stopped, and Wukong tensed, tail flicking-- 

Ahhh crap. Tail. 

He tensed even further as Mk started towards him, slowly, but resigned himself to his fate as he neared the bed. He didn’t feel up to attempting to escape. At least he was in a form that wouldn’t immediately give away how absolutely terrible he was feeling. 

“Monkey King?” Mk asked, crouching beside the bed. 

Wukong’s tail flicked in response, and Mk reached over and pulled the blankets back away from his head. 

Wukong’s eyes adjusted to the light quickly, cat eyes were nice like that, but it still gave him a bit of a headache. He looked up at Mk, who was looking down at him, a confused expression on his face. 

“Why are you a cat?”

Wukong’s ear twitched, and he blinked slowly at him, choosing not to say anything. 

Mk blinked slowly back. 

He considered attempting to tunnel back into the blankets, but he really didn't feel like moving; that was why he was in this situation in the first place. 

“I know you can still talk,” Mk told him. He almost sounded chiding. 

Didn’t mean he wanted to. 

“You’ve got the week off,” he managed to make himself say. 

“Yeah, I know,” Mk said, still looking at him. 

They stared at each other for a minute. 

Wukong sighed in defeat. “What do you want?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

“Can’t I just drop by and visit?” 

Wukong squinted at him, which probably didn’t have the desired effect on him, since he was currently a fluffy cat, but at least he tried. 

“Your monkey’s invited me in,” Mk seemed to feel the need to point out. “I can go if you want.” 

Now was about the time that Wukong should have opened his mouth and said, _yes, if you don’t mind, I’ll see you for training next week_ , except when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He sat there, still and silent, and couldn’t bring himself to tell his successor to leave. 

Mk didn’t look surprised at his lack of response, and just wordlessly climbed onto his bed and sat down on top of the blankets, crossing his legs and leaning back against the wall to get comfortable. He looked like he wasn’t leaving any time soon. Wukong knew he’d go if he asked him to, but he didn’t, so he stayed. 

The little monkey’s seemed to take that as blanket permission and wasted no time jumping onto the bed as well, hanging off of Mk’s arms, settling onto his lap, and a few starting to comb through his hair, and Wukong’s fur looking for any tasty snacks. Mk talked to himself and the monkey’s happily; somehow he never seemed to run out of things to say, and he didn’t seem to be thinking about leaving any time soon. 

Wukong huffed and buried his face under the blankets. 

Stubborn kid. He probably got it from Pigsy. 

Oddly enough, with Mk’s voice in the background, the thought didn’t make his chest ache as much as it usually did. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  


He would never get used to having them around. He didn’t _want_ to get used to having them around, but he did start to grow numb when he saw them. He wasn’t sure he could handle actually talking to them, but at least seeing them when he went to check on Mk didn’t make him fall apart anymore. 

Pigsy hadn’t tried to talk to him again after the rooftop threat; Tang was still sort of trying, due to his curious nature and apparent infatuation with him. It was endlessly odd to have him so invested in his legends, _their_ legends. He wondered sometimes if some part of him really did subconsciously remember, and that’s why he was drawn to the tales of their small family. 

Sandy was another story all together. He’d always been the most laid back out of all of them. He didn’t seem offended, or to even take notice that Wukong was avoiding him and the others, but he knew better than to assume that were true. Sandy was a lot more observant than he liked to let on. He had no doubt he’d noticed and was simply choosing not to say anything on the matter. He just hoped he hadn’t given too much away; Sandy was smart, he might figure it out if he wasn’t careful. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Then, Tang Sanzhang, now Tripitaka, set out on his Journey west.” 

Mk spun around in his seat, just as excited as the first time he’d heard Tang reaccount the Journey to the West. 

Sandy had to have heard this story dozens of times since he’d started spending more time at Pigsy’s shop. He didn’t mind hearing it so often, it made Mk happy and that was reason enough for it to continue. Tang also enjoyed telling the story as many times as there was someone willing to listen, which Mk almost always was. It made two of his friends happy, so it wasn’t a problem hearing it again and again. 

It was a nice story anyways. Full of adventure and humour, and Tang seemed to remember new details to add every time he told it to keep it entertaining and interesting. 

“Mk!” Mei called from the back, where she was entering the shop. “Monkey King’s waiting for you outside!” 

Ah, yes. The main subject of said stories. A larger than life, legendary figure, who had chosen Mk as his successor, and looked horribly small and alone for a split second whenever Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, or even Mei sometimes, were in his line of sight, before he’d plaster a smile on his face and act like the sadness in his eyes wasn’t still clinging to him. The legends spoke of brothers, and a master, yet Sun Wukong never did. 

Things that Sandy knew: in _the journey west_ , it described a monk, a dragon in the form of a horse, a demon pig, and a river demon. 

Sandy was a river demon, Pigsy was a demon pig, Mei was a descendant of a dragon. 

Monkey King never spoke of his family, and was currently standing outside the back of the shop and waiting, rather than coming inside to pick up Mk.

It could all be a coincidence. But Sandy never much did believe in coincidences. 

Mk hopped off his stool and waved everyone goodbye before racing out the back. 

“Make sure you’re back before I lock up!” Pigsy shouted after him. 

“I have a key!” 

“That’s not why--ugh.” Pigsy gave up, since Mk was already out the back, and stomped back into the kitchen, grumbling under his breath. 

Sandy spared a moment to smile at the exchange. 

“Just ask him to text you when he gets back,” Mei told him brightly as she grabbed the bowl of noodles Pigsy had set in front of her. 

Pigsy just grunted at that. Sandy knew he’d much rather set his own eyes on Mk to make sure he was safe; but he wouldn’t outright say it. 

“Monkey King will take care of him,” Tang reassured him, from where he sat at the counter, his chin propped in his hands. “He’ll be fine.” 

Pigsy gave him an annoyed look, but didn’t deign to respond to that. He knew that, it just wasn’t enough to stop him from worrying. Pigsy was just like that. 

Sandy settled down, Mo curled up on his shoulders, and sipped his tea, enjoying the warmth of the shop and the feeling of familiarity inside, wondering and thinking. Whatever the details, the reality was that Sun Wukong had clearly lost his family. It could be that they simply reminded him of them, but Sandy knew it was more than that. 

After all, there was no such thing as coincidences.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Another day, another rooftop dissociation. 

Mk was chatting with Mei in the shop. He’d said goodbye after he’d dropped him off, so there was no reason for him to suspect he was just sitting on the roof like he’d gotten in the habit of doing. It was the easiest way to hear the group talk and laugh, and be close to that warmth without actually being… a part of it. 

He just liked causing himself unnecessary pain apparently. 

“You’re avoiding us.” Pigsy said bluntly. 

Wukong didn’t bother turning to look at him. He had heard him coming, unlike the first time he’d climbed onto the roof of the shop to confront him. He could have flown away, but he hadn’t felt all that much like moving. Now he was thinking he should have. He was even less prepared for this conversation than he had been the first one, but he hadn’t thought this new Pigsy would actually care enough to notice.

“Look,” Pigsy continued when he didn’t say anything. “I couldn’t care less. But you’re making the kid sad, so you better explain yourself.” 

Ah, there it was. 

“Look Be--” he stopped, freezing momentarily when he realized what he’d nearly said, before forcing himself to continue, correcting his almost-slip-up. “Pigsy. If I was avoiding you, you’d never see me. I just have other things that I--” 

“You almost called me something else,” Pigsy interrupted him. 

Wukong stilled. 

“No I didn’t.” 

“Yes you did. What was it.” 

“I called you your name.” Not a lie. Or maybe it was. It technically wasn’t his name anymore. 

“You’re hiding something, monkey.” 

He could feel his narrowed gaze drilling into the back of his head, but still didn’t turn to face him. It was almost funny; Pigsy was one of the only beings who could get away with talking to him like that. 

“I’m a centuries old being,” Wukong said lightly. “I’m hiding a lot of things, most of which would take decades to explain, and would be too much for your mortal mind to comprehend, so excuse me if I’d rather not spend so long explaining just to have your brain implode.” 

“You’re snarky for an immortal.” 

“You should meet some of the heavenly court,” Wukong muttered under his breath. 

Pigsy snorted. 

Wukong tried not to think about how familiar it felt. 

He really needed to stop thinking about them as the same people. 

“What?” 

Wukong straightened up. “What?” 

Crap, he’d said that outloud. 

“What people? What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing, no one,” Wukong scrambled for a hold, an excuse, anything to cover up his blunder. “I just had a thought, unrelated to our current conversation. I was talking to myself. Don’t worry about it.” 

He could _hear_ Pigsy’s unconvinced, annoyed look, and his heart pounded in his ears, making him want to shift into something else and fly away, but panic kept him glued to his seat on the edge of the roof. 

He didn’t realize his shoulders had started hiking up to his ears until Pigsy sat down next to him, making him jump. 

“Relax,” he sighed as he leaned back on his hands. “I’m not gonna interrogate ya.” 

Yeah, sure, relax… easier said than done. 

Pigsy didn’t say anything, but he didn’t make any move to leave either, so Wukong resigned himself to his fate and tried to breathe. 

After a while some of the tension drained out of his shoulders, and he was able to achieve some semblance of calm. Pigsy’s presence was a mix of helpful and unhelpful. On one hand, the familiarity was nice, it helped him feel a little more at ease. But on the other hand, every time he looked at him, it was just a reminder that it wasn’t his brother anymore.

Technically speaking he could have just jumped off the roof and flown away, but… well, he missed him. If this was all he could get of his Pigsy then the ache in his chest wasn’t too bad of a price to pay. It was there anyways. Besides, if he closed his eyes he could almost pretend the soft breeze he felt was natural, and that they were sitting in a grassy field with Tripitaka and Sandy a short distance away, meditating. The sounds of the city didn’t allow for that fantasy to continue for very long however, and he sighed. 

“You could come inside, ya know.” 

Wukong turned to stare at him. 

Pigsy watched the skyline. “It’s warmer at least.” 

What he wouldn’t give to… But no. He looked down at the light traffic in the streets below them. That would probably only hurt worse, and there was a chance he would slip up and they’d figure it out. He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to know about it. 

“I’ll even get Tang to quit pestering ya with questions if ya want.” 

That pulled a quiet laugh from him. It was more of an exhale than a real laugh, but it was something. Pigsy had always been pretty good at making him smile when he didn’t feel like it. He wanted to accept the offer, there was no question about that, but this wasn’t his family anymore, and he didn’t have the right to intrude on it, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

“Thank you for the offer,” he said quietly. “But I’ve got to be heading home.” 

Pigsy’s eyes were on him as he stood, and he gave him a small smile, which probably looked a lot sadder than he meant it to be, but he didn’t feel like disguising it right at that moment. 

“Door’s always open,” Pigsy told him. 

Wukong swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat and nodded to show he understood. 

He wanted to say something else, tell him to take care of the family that he had, but he was doing just fine with that. Pigsy didn’t need him. 

He jumped, shifted into a bird, and flew away. 

Pigsy stared after him, and sat on the roof a while longer, in contemplative silence. He’d offered him a place. Now it was up to the monkey whether or not he wanted to accept it. It had taken Mk a while to come inside too, they were similar like that. 

He gave one last look at where Sun Wukong was fading into the distance, then headed back inside to make sure Tang wasn’t stealing anything from the kitchen. 

  
  
  
  


  
  
  


Nightmares weren’t exactly a new thing. 

He’d had his fair share of them over the centuries, it just… had been a while since he’d had one _this_ bad. He supposed he should have seen it coming, with all of this hurt resurfacing, but as it was, he wasn’t really expecting it, so, in his blind hurt and panic, he’d gone to the first place he’d thought of, Pigsy’s voice echoing in his head, _door’s always open_.

The windows were dark; it was the middle of the night, why wouldn’t they be? Stupid, stupid, stupid. Dumb half-awake, panic brain, wanting comfort from people who didn’t even know him anymore. They meant more to him, than he did to them already, add the fact that they didn’t even _remember_ now-- 

He just… 

He just wanted a hug. 

It was such a small thing to settle on, but it was the one thought crowding out all others and making his chest ache, and his skin itch. He wanted one of Sandy’s hugs. The ones where he’d pull everyone into his arms, and nearly crush Pigsy and Tripitaka while Wukong would laugh because he could barely feel it, but he could _feel_ it. 

He sat down, his back against the back door of the noodle shop wrapped his arms around his knees in a poor imitation of a hug. It wasn’t the same, but it was all he had; just himself. 

Well, that’s what he got for leaving the mountain. At least he’d have small monkey cuddles if he’d stayed, but no, his feverish post-nightmare brain had made him fly all the way to the mainland, and now he was alone in a deserted back alley, by himself with his nightmare thoughts as company. 

Great. 

He was distracted, so he didn’t notice someone approaching the door from the inside until it was opening and he was falling back onto the floor with a yelp. 

Wukong blinked up at the upside-down Pigsy, from where he lay on the floor. 

Pigsy stared down at him. He was wearing a brown jacket and jeans; it was the first time Wukong had seen him in anything but his chef outfit. There was a look of surprise flickering across his face for a moment before his expression settled into something more neutral, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“Monkey,” he greeted. 

“You’re still here?” was what came out of Wukong’s mouth when he opened it. 

“Had some things I was taking care of,” Pigsy told him cautiously, tilting his head as he looked at him warily. 

Wukong very abruptly became aware of the fact that he was currently laying on the ground, halfway through the doorway of the noodle shop, and he fumbled to his feet with a lot more stumbling than usual. He was glad he hadn’t started crying, that would have been awkward to try and explain--not that his presence was any easier to explain. 

“I--sorry, I’ll just uh…” he glanced down the street and considered his options. On one hand, he really didn’t want to leave, but on the other hand he really didn’t feel like explaining himself. He wasn’t even sure _what_ he wanted, aside from a hug, but he certainly wasn’t going to ask for that. 

“Come on,” Pigsy said, suddenly, turning around and heading back into the shop. 

“Huh?” 

He looked back at him over his shoulder. “Come on,” he repeated. “It’s cold out there. Make sure you shut the door behind you.” Then he disappeared inside the shop without waiting for an answer. 

He could leave. Just… shift his form and scurry, or fly away, Pigsy wouldn’t stop him. He very clearly walked away so he could either follow him inside, or fly away; it was up to him which he decided to do. Usually he would fly away right then, that was what he was going to do before he’d just… invited him in and then left him to figure it out. 

Wukong only hesitated for a moment, then found himself following him inside, almost without thinking. He made sure to close the door behind him like he’d asked, and stepped forward tentatively, feeling a bit like he was intruding as Pigsy flicked on the light. 

He hadn’t been inside the noodle shop in a good long while. It looked a little different when it was empty at this time of night, especially with only a few lights on. 

Pigsy was already in the kitchen, his jacket draped over a stool, and pulling out some pots and pans, with minimal clanking. He didn’t so much as spare Wukong a second glance as he filled up a pot with water, then set it on the stove and made his way over to the fridge. 

“You can sit in Tang’s stool,” Pigsy said without looking at him, grabbing some things from the fridge. “It’s the comfiest one, s’why he sits there.” 

He wasn’t sure what that said about himself that he knew which stool was Tang’s. He didn’t bother arguing or trying to sit elsewhere, finding another seat seemed like too much energy anyway and he tentatively sat down on the stool, resting his arms on the countertop. 

Pigsy still hadn’t looked at him, busy with chopping some ingredients up. His casual demeanor gave Wukong an opportunity to relax a little; he missed spending time with someone without them looking at him. Pigsy didn’t seem to be at all phased by the fact that he was an immortal, powerful being. Don’t get him wrong, it was great to be seen as the awesome person he was, but… he just missed the blatant lack of care that his brothers used to have. He wasn’t the Great Sage Equal to Heaven to them, he was just Wukong. 

He missed the familiarity. 

He was abruptly startled out of his thoughts when something was unceremoniously dropped over his shoulders--a blanket, he registered distantly. He hadn’t even realized that Pigsy had left the room to get it. He glanced up at Pigsy, who was already walking back around the counter, concentrated on his next task, not drawing any attention to the fact he’d just given him the blanket. 

It was warm. He hadn’t realized he’d been cold; usually his fur did a pretty good job of keeping him the right temperature. 

The blanket was starting to slip off, and he automatically reached up to keep it from doing so. He pulled it tighter so it hugged him more securely and watched Pigsy move around the kitchen. 

He worked fairly smoothly, with minimal noise, making Wukong think this wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this while someone was sleeping upstairs. 

He glanced at the ceiling, considering activating his true sight. Remembering that Mk was just upstairs was sobering. He’d already seen him hiding under blankets as a cat, he really didn’t want him seeing him experiencing some sort of breakdown. 

“Don’t worry about the kid,” Pigsy said gruffly, drawing his attention. “He’s slept through worse.” 

Wukong blinked, surprised Pigsy had known what he had been thinking. He still hadn’t even looked at him. Or maybe he had and Wukong just hadn’t noticed.

Pigsy worked in silence from then on out, and Wukong didn’t feel the need to break it, so he simply sat on Tang’s stool, watching Pigsy make noodles with well practiced movements that made Wukong sure he’d been doing it for a long time. He didn’t realize the noodles were for _him_ until Pigsy was setting the bowl in front of him. 

He blinked down at the steaming bowl. 

“Oh. I don’t really--” 

“Eat cooked stuff,” Pigsy finished for him. “Yeah, I know. Heard that from Tang. It’s just to hold. You’re shaking.” 

He glanced down at his hands which really were trembling. He didn’t feel cold, so that was probably just him now. 

He was really glad Mk was sleeping. 

He pulled the bowl forward, leaving it on the counter but wrapping his shaky hands around it, and let the warmth and the smell ground him a little. 

“You like peaches, right?” Pigsy asked, making him look up. He was rooting through the fridge again. 

“I--” 

Pigsy set two peaches down on the counter before he could answer, then grabbed a smaller knife than the one he’d been using earlier, and started cutting the peaches into slices with the same practiced ease as he had when preparing the noodles. 

It wasn’t long after that there was another bowl out with two sliced up peaches inside it set in front of him.

“Eat that,” Pigsy told him firmly, then turned away and started gathering up all the dishes he’d used and placed them by the sink. 

Wukong stared down at the peaches and the bowl of soup that his hands were still around, hesitating, and listening to the sound of running water as Pigsy turned the tap on. He glanced at him, but he was busy rolling up his sleeves and wasn’t paying attention to him at all, keeping his eyes off him like he’d been doing since Wukong entered the shop. 

Peaches weren’t usually an ingredient for noodles, were they? 

He looked back down at the fruit, a small smile on his face. 

Wukong slowly ate his peaches and Pigsy washed the dishes. 

The taste of the fruit and the smell and warmth of the soup, and comfort of the blanket, coupled with Pigsy’s presence as he cleared up the kitchen made the nightmare seem like a distant memory. The ache in his chest was still there, but he could breathe at least. 

The noodles had cooled down. He was never going to understand why Pigsy had made them. Though his hands had stopped shaking, so maybe there was something to it. He still didn’t know why he didn’t just heat up some water. 

“I’ve got a couch open if ya don’t wanna make the trip back to your flower mountain.” 

“Flowerfruit,” Wukong corrected quietly, then jolted slightly as he processed Pigsy’s words. “Wait, what?” 

“The air conditioning’s broken, but I’ve got extra blankets,” he continued as he finished drying the last dish and gathered up a few of them, heading to the other side of the kitchen to put them away. “You can stay there as long as you like, as long as ya don’t break anything.”

Wukong swallowed unsteadily, the fresh taste of peach lingering on his tongue. “I…” his shut his mouth, and looked away. “I’m fine. Though I appreciate the offer.” 

Pigsy slid the drawer shut and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. He fixed him in a look that made Wukong feel like he’d disappointed him somehow. What had Mk called it? A disappointed Dad look? He didn’t even know Pigsy could do one of those. It reminded him of the look Tripitaka used to give him. 

“Look,” he said, blunt, but softly. “I’m gonna be honest with you… ya look like crap.” 

Wukong dropped his eyes to stare down at the counter, grimacing. 

“You don’t have to talk about why--I didn’t invite ya in to ask, that’s not why you’re here. Call me crazy, but you being here tells me that ya don’t want to be alone right now. Whether or not you want to come over… that’s up to you, but, a word of advice? Let people help you.” 

Suddenly the weight of several thousand years seemed to settle on his shoulders heavily. 

“I wish it were that easy,” he murmured. 

“Then make it that easy,” Pigsy said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. 

Wukong was silent. 

“Just....” Pigsy stopped, and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, then pushed himself off the counter to walk over to him. He came around the counter to stand next to him, and waited until Wukong looked up at him to continue. “Just give it a chance, a’ight?” His voice softened. “People might surprise ya.” 

“The surprises I get aren’t usually the good kind,” Wukong told him tiredly; he didn’t even have the energy to muster up a wry smile, and just stared down at the shop floor, hunching in on himself slightly. 

He was sure surprised to learn his family was leaving him. He didn’t know if he was surprised when he found them again though--he was more of just… tired then. This whole thing was tiring, though that might’ve just been the fact that it was the middle of the night talking. It was silly that he was immortal and yet still needed sleep. 

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and pretended it was a real hug. 

Pigsy sighed again, then grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him forward, enveloping him in his arms. 

Wukong froze. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, already relaxing in spite of himself. If it were anyone else, he probably would have jerked away, or reacted by flipping them over the counter, or punching them through the wall, but it was Pigsy; his subconscious didn't’ seem to feel the need to defend him from his brother, even if said brother didn’t remember him. 

“You looked like you could use a hug,” Pigsy told him. His voice was gruff, but his arms were gentle, and careful. Loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted to, but firm enough to feel. 

“Oh,” was all he could say before his heart lodged in his throat. 

“Do you want me to let go?” 

“...no.” 

Wukong hesitated, but it was a losing battle, and after a few seconds he slowly lowered his head so that it was resting on Pigsy’s shoulder and slumped against him. The hug tightened into something more firm once he’d relaxed into it, like Pigsy had been waiting to make sure he was okay with it before actually hugging him for real. 

It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. His Pigsy’s hugs usually involved a headlock and ended in them tumbling onto the ground and wrestling. This Pigsy’s hugs were firm and steady, like an offer of support and safety. 

Wukong’s hands came up to grip the back of his shirt, and he clung to him, pressing his face against his shoulder. 

Pigsy didn’t say anything, he just held him without complaint. 

It might not have been a Sandy hug, but wasn’t so bad either. 

  
  
  


He ended up taking the offer to stay at Pigsy’s apartment. He really didn’t feel like being alone, Pigsy had been right about that. 

He stood by, feeling a bit awkward as Pigsy locked up the shop, then they headed off down the street. 

Pigsy had let him keep the blanket, and Wukong draped it over his head to hide, just so he didn’t get any curious looks, but the streets were mostly deserted on the way. He felt a little worried that Pigsy walked this route every day after work alone. He could probably handle himself, but despite that thought, he still worried. 

The apartment wasn’t anything too fancy, the door jammed a little when Pigsy went to open it, and he had to force it open with his shoulder a little. He flicked on the entryway light, and slipped off his shoes, tossing them to the side of the small hallway, and started into the apartment. 

“Up to you whether ya wanna take your shoes off or leave ‘em on,” he told him over his shoulder, and vanished into the apartment, much like he had the noodle shop earlier, leaving Wukong to enter at his own pace, or leave if he wanted to. 

Wukong followed him inside, closing the door behind him, looking around as he did so. 

The walls were a generic white colour, with a dark wooden floor. The hallway only had one little light in the ceiling and a small closet that was much too close to the door to be of much use in the cramped space; judging from the few pairs of shoes scattered in the hall, it was probably safe to say that Pigsy didn’t use it. He noticed it was a little chilly inside, he hadn’t been kidding about the broken air conditioning. His fur and the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders helped with that though. 

He chose to leave his boots on, and by the time he made it to the end of the short hallway, Pigsy was already re-entering the room, with a stack of blankets in his arms. He passed into what seemed to be the living room, to Wukong’s left, which had a single couch and a small T.V up against the far wall, and dumped the blankets onto said couch before disappearing down the opposite hall again. 

The kitchen to his right somehow looked a lot more lived in. The table had five chairs set around it, and a few others stacked up against the corner wall, as if waiting for when guests would drop by. Most of the lights were off, but it still looked bright somehow. Wukong wondered if their group would have meals together there sometimes. 

Pigsy reappeared, this time with a sleeping bag and a few pillows. He dumped those on the couch too, before turning to look at Wukong, hands on his hips. 

“My room is down the hall to the left, and the bathroom’s to the right. Knock if you need anything.” 

“Thank you,” Wukong said, just as Pigsy started to turn away. 

He stopped and glanced back at him, studying him for a moment, then nodding once. “Stick around however long ya like.” With that, he vanished down the hall. 

Wukong stood in the dimly lit apartment for a moment, listening to the door close and Pigsy walk around in the bedroom for a minute. There was some creaking from the mattress as he climbed into bed, then everything was as quiet as it could be in the city, with the buzzing of the electricity and fridge. 

He walked over to the couch and arranged the blankets so it was something comfortable, then climbed onto the couch and curled up. It was a lot wider than he’d been expecting, seemingly made so someone could sleep on it comfortably without falling off. One of those might be nice back at his home. 

He exhaled slowly, listening to the clock on the wall tick. 

So this was Pigsy, huh? 

A little gruff, but kind enough that he’d invite a stranger he didn’t exactly like into his home, just because he found him outside his shop looking, in his words, like crap. 

Bajie would be happy to know that he had reincarnated into someone he could be proud of. 

With that last thought Wukong let himself fall asleep. 

His sleep was suspiciously dream free for the rest of the night. 

  
  
  
  


So, here’s the thing… Pigsy wasn’t usually a hugger. 

Not with strangers at least, he’d always be more than ready to hug any of the kids if they needed it, and somehow Tang had destroyed his personal bubble entirely and he barely even noticed when he leaned on his shoulder anymore, but other then the kids, Tang, and Sandy, Pigsy wasn’t real big on physical affection, which was why it was so strange that he’d felt comfortable hugging the Monkey King. 

There hadn’t been a second thought, he’d just pulled him into a hug like it was one of the most normal things in the world, and what was stranger was that the Monkey accepted the hug with minimal protest. From what he knew of the monkey, he wasn’t a big fan of seeming at all vulnerable, but he’d followed Pigsy inside the noodle shop and leaned into the hug like it was the first one he’d had in a long time. 

He didn’t seem like a legend, or an immortal being, he just seemed like a normal guy, who didn’t know how to be anything other than lonely. 

Mk had been a bit like that too. Pigsy was still having a tough time to get him to ask for help when he needed it, but it was a work in progress, he was doing leagues better than when he’d first started working at the shop. Even with Mk it had been a while before he’d hugged the kid. Though, that had been more because he wasn’t sure what he was comfortable with, and technically it had been Mk who hugged _him_ first, but that was besides the point. 

The point was, somehow Pigsy had looked at the Monkey King and known he’d needed a hug. He’d worked to be good at that, noticing other people and how they were feeling, and gauging when they needed and/or wanted help, but this was different. There was no question in his mind, it hadn’t been a guess, or a conclusion due to observation. He’d taken one look at him and _known_ , without a shadow of a doubt. He’d recognized signs he’d never seen, and shouldn’t have been able to know about, and known he’d needed a hug. 

And, what was even more odd, was that, instead of striking him down, or some other immortal nonsense, Sun Wukong had hugged him back. 

Call Pigsy crazy, but he didn’t think it was normal for two strangers to be comfortable hugging each other like that. He certainly usually wasn’t. 

When his alarm finally went off he had already been wide awake for at least an hour, thinking about the guest in his living room, staring up at the wall. 

Tang was up as well, reading like he did every morning. He probably thought Pigsy was still asleep, given how he was making an effort to turn the pages of his book quietly. 

Pigsy reached over and shut off the alarm, then sat up, rubbing the sleep off his face. 

“Good morning,” Tang greeted, as he turned the next page. 

Pigsy grunted, and pulled off the covers. The floor was chilly and cold against his warm feet and he grimaced slightly at the abrupt change in temperature. The floorboards creaked slightly under his weight as he slipped off the bed, and made his way towards the bathroom. 

He wasn’t sure why, but when he got past the initial suspicion of the guy, and protectiveness of Mk, he almost… had constant feelings of _deja vous_ when he looked at him, like he’d known him in another life or something. 

He opened the door, and remembered Tang didn’t know about their guest. He doubted he’d appreciate being woken up by a loud gasp so he paused, and turned back to look at Tang, squinting at the light coming through the window. 

“Monkey’s on the couch,” he grunted. “Don’t wake him up.” 

He ignored the way Tang’s head snapped to him so fast his neck almost cracked and closed the door behind him as he headed down the hall. He could deal with his questions in a minute, he needed a shower right now. 

Tang was out of the bedroom, in the hall and peeking around the corner at the couch. 

“Pigsy,” he hissed, once he saw him. “Why is the Monkey King on our couch.” 

“My couch,” Pigsy corrected him, in a grumble. He grabbed him by the back of his scarf and dragged him back into the bedroom so they wouldn’t wake up the sleeping monkey with his loud whispering. 

They stood in the kitchen once he’d finished his short explanation, consisting of _“He was at the shop, so I told him he could sleep on the couch, and he is,”_ and Tang had freaked out for a solid three minutes, before Pigsy told him to calm down, and he had. 

“Only you would invite the Monkey King himself to sleep on the couch,” he said, his eyes rising to the heavens, as though pleading for patience. He couldn’t quite withhold a fond smile though, so Pigsy figured he was just being dramatic. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Pigsy huffed, grabbing his coat, and pulling it on, his keys clinking slightly in it’s pocket. Sun Wukong slept right through it. “Don’t pester him when he wakes up, a’ight?” 

“I don’t pester,” Tang huffed, crossing his arms. 

Pigsy paused putting on his shoes to give him a look. 

“Alright! Fine!” he exclaimed in a whisper, throwing up his hands. “No questions! I’ll just stand over there and not breathe.” 

“Great,” Pigsy grunted. “Don’t stare, either.” 

Tang spluttered, and Pigsy opened the door and headed out. 

“Fruit in the fridge if he wants,” he told him, before closing it, and leaving the spluttering Tang behind. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and started down the hall. 

Hopefully Tang would give the monkey some space. His waves of questions were probably more stressful than anything, but he was smart enough, once his excitement died down a little anyway; he’d be able to read the room and not scare him off. Hopefully. 

It wasn’t until he was halfway to the shop that he realized that he had never once for a second thought that Tang might be unsafe with a stranger in the apartment. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


When he woke up, it was to the sound of clinking teacups. 

He rolled over and pressed his face into the inner cushions of the couch and pretended he wasn’t awake yet, even though he knew it was a lost cause. 

Despite his movement, Pigsy didn’t come to wake him up, so he let himself lay there for a good long while. The humming that his ears picked up on was what really woke him up, because it didn’t sound like Pigsy, and he had a brief moment of panic where he thought somehow he wasn’t where he thought he was. 

He shot into a sitting position, glancing around the room, but--nope. Still Pigsy’s apartment, only a lot brighter now that sunlight was filtering in through the few windows; he hadn’t moved, which meant… 

“Good morning,” someone, who was not Pigsy said, and Wukong’s head snapped around to look at them. 

Tang looked back at him calmly from behind a teacup. 

Wukong blinked. 

“Pigsy said there’s fruit in the fridge if you want it,” he told him when Wukong didn’t say anything. 

They stared at each other for a moment, until Tang coughed and hid behind his teacup again. He didn’t ask any questions, which was… odd. 

“You two live together?” was the only thing he could think of to say. 

Tang shrugged, setting the tea cup down on the counter carefully. “Sort of. Pigsy let me stay here when I lost my apartment, and I haven’t gotten around to finding another one yet.” 

“Oh.” 

“Would you like some fruit?” he asked, starting towards the fridge. “We’ve got lots of peaches.” 

“Peaches?” Wukong repeated, distractedly, his mind still stuck on the fact that Pigsy and Tang apparently lived together. 

“Yeah, Pigsy always buys them. You’d think they were his favourite, there’s always a couple of them here and in his shop, but he doesn’t actually like the taste all that much, if you can believe it. I think he just likes to look at them.” 

Peaches. 

Wukong’s favourite. 

Almost like a part of Pigsy was just… waiting for him to drop by. 

The ache in his chest built up and lodged in his throat. It was only a matter of a few seconds before it was overflowing, and he 

“Oh! Oh dear,” Tang said, sounding alarmed, and more than a little concerned. “Did I say something?” 

“No,” Wukong managed, voice a lot more wobbly than he meant it to be. He wiped at the tears streaming down his cheeks and wetting his fur. He turned his head away to hide, even though it was much too late, and Tang had already seen. “Ah, this is awkward.” He blinked rapidly, like that might somehow make the tears in his eyes and the ache in his chest go away. 

“Are you sure?” Tang asked, hesitatingly. “You’re… crying.” 

“Really?” Wukong choked out. “I hadn’t noticed.” 

This entire time, Tang seemed to be walking on eggshells around him, either excited out of his mind, or seemingly terrified of saying or doing something wrong, but right then, it was like he momentarily forgot about that and Tang gave him the most unamused expression he’d seen in several thousand years. 

Pigsy did a pretty good job of replicating the look, but he could never quite reach the same level that Tripitaka did when it came to tiredly disappointed expressions. 

“Sorry,” Wukong said, automatically. 

“Oh! No!” Tang waved his hands, almost panickedly, the expression vanishing as fast as it had arrived. “Don’t apologize!” 

And it was just Tang again. 

For a moment… 

Ugh. 

He really needed to stop. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Tang asked tentatively after he was silent for a while. 

Wukong kept his head turned away from him so he couldn't see his expression and grimaced. 

_No_ , he didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing to talk about, nothing he could do. He’d had his chance, and now he was sitting here intruding on the people Mk’s life, who were not the same people he used to know, and he didn’t have any right to be thinking of them as such. It wasn’t fair to them. 

“I’ve gotta get going,” he said, instead of answering. He climbed off the couch, leaving the blankets there and bowed to Tang, which made the man almost hilariously flustered, and seemed to successfully distract him from the fact that he’d been crying over peaches a moment ago. “Thank you for your hospitality.” 

“I--well, it was mostly Pigsy--” 

Wukong gave him a smile that he knew would cut him off, and it did, successfully making him too flustered to actually speak. 

“Thank you, Tang.” 

“Yup,” Tang squeaked. “Anytime.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting to see a crying Monkey King when he’d woken up that morning. 

He hadn’t been expecting to see Monkey King _at all_ , actually, but life was full of surprises. 

After Sun Wukong had left, Tang finished his tea, contemplating the exchange, and maybe cursing himself for getting distracted by a bow and a smile. Who would have thought the _Monkey King himself_ would bow to _Tang_ and--nope, nope, getting off-topic again, dang it. 

There was clearly something going on with the Great Sage Equal to Heaven. Pigsy had a habit of bringing in lost, or hurting people into his shop; those who needed help. He’d always seemed to have an eye for those types of people, and the fact that he’d invited Monkey King over told Tang that something was up. He just didn’t know what. 

He sighed as he locked the apartment door, and pulled his scarf up a little higher to hide his frown as he started down the hall. 

It was an odd thing, to think of the Monkey King as someone who Pigsy was attempting to look after, though, really, he shouldn’t be surprised. If anyone was going to try and adopt the actual Monkey King, of course it was going to be Pigsy. No one else would dare try, but Pigsy had never really cared about who people were, or who they used to be. He only ever really acknowledged who they were trying to become. That was one of the things Tang admired about him. 

It likely wouldn’t be long before he was going to somehow be dragging Monkey King into the noodle shop and getting him to sit down and connect with everyone, as was his habit. Tang could be patient and wait until then. 

Probably. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It was supposed to be a one time thing. He certainly didn’t intend to have another moment of weakness and end up back at the noodle shop, but as it turned out, it was a lot harder to stay away now that he had gotten a taste of that warmth he’d been missing for so long. 

Not two weeks later he was standing outside the noodle shop, pacing back and forth, trying to decide whether or not to actually go in. 

There was a lull in customers, but it was still the middle of the day. He hadn’t really been thinking when he’d flown over. 

He kept glancing behind him and around the back alley. Mk would be making deliveries today. He should probably be worried about being seen by him, but he couldn’t quite get himself to leave, he just kept pacing around the deserted back street. 

He wasn’t sure what he would have done if Pigsy hadn’t come out back to throw out some trash. He probably just would have kept pacing until something forced him to leave.

The door opened and Wukong froze. 

Pigsy made it about two steps out the door before his eyes landed on him, and he stopped as well. 

Wukong grew more tense the longer he was silent, feeling like he’d gotten caught being somewhere he shouldn’t have been. 

He opened his mouth to say something, then clamped it shut again, because he really didn’t have an excuse. 

Pigsy moved, tossing the large bag of trash into the dumpster by the door. 

Wukong almost made a break for it right then and there, but then Pigsy turned around and pointed at him, effectively pinning him in place with a look. 

“Stay there,” he ordered him, then promptly vanished back inside before he could respond. 

Wukong glanced up at the sky, considering his options, and shifting on his feet, but despite his slight unease and nervousness, he stayed put. 

Just as he was really beginning to get restless, Pigsy reappeared, with someone behind him. 

Wukong froze again. 

Sandy gave him a small wave. 

“Sandy’s got a house boat you can head over to, unless you wanna spend the next while hiding behind the counter so you aren’t harassed by customers.” 

His eyes darted between the two of them. Sandy didn't seem offended by his skittishness at the prospect, and Pigsy seemed to just take it as generic nervousness. 

“I trust Sandy,” he told him firmly. “You don’t have to go, but I’m occupied right now. He’s a good guy.” 

Wukong swallowed. He knew that. Sandy was one of the best guys. He was also one of the smartest, and there was a patient understanding in his eyes that Wukong wasn’t sure he was ready to face, but… 

“Counter or boat?” Pigsy asked, drawing him out of his thoughts. He didn’t look to be in any rush, but Wukong could hear more customers entering the shop. 

“Boat.” 

  
  
  


The cup of tea was warm in his hands. 

It was a clear, dark blend, a little spicy, but not overwhelmingly so, and it reminded him of chilly nights around a campfire under a thousand tiny stars. 

A cat crawled onto his lap, already purring and he carefully petted it’s silky fur. If he was feeling better he might’ve been a little jealous of how soft it was. 

It wasn’t the only cat; there were several settled next to him where he sat cross legged on the floor, and one had draped herself over his shoulders. Even more were lounging around the boat in odd places. 

They reminded him a lot of his small monkey’s. Just less… energetic. 

Sandy was in the boat’s kitchen. Wukong heard him speaking gently, and softly to his cats, offering them treats as he found some snacks for himself and his guest. His quiet voice was a… nice background noise. That, coupled with the sound of the waves against the side of the ship, the slight sway of the floor and the purring from the cat’s was actually rather relaxing. 

It was a warm, homey atmosphere that seemed to inspire calm. He was glad Sandy had created a place like this for himself. 

A plate of various fruits and a few crackers and cookies was placed in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sandy settled down on the floor, across the table from him with an exhale, petting the blue cat on his shoulders. 

He didn't say anything, so after another minute, the tension drained of Wukong and he watched the tea in his cup sway with the rest of this ship, occasionally raising it to his lips to take a small sip or two. 

The silence was calming, but Wukong couldn’t help glancing at Sandy every now and again. He was never looking back at him, either meditating with his eyes closed, or petting one of his cats. He kept expecting him to say something, to make a comment or ask a question. He knew he’d noticed his avoidance of the group, (honestly everyone had probably noticed at this point,) and there was no doubt he’d probably come to some sort of conclusion. He found himself almost… waiting for him to ask and confirm it. 

Finally he couldn’t take the silence anymore. 

“Aren’t going to ask?” 

Sandy opened one eye, studying him with it for a moment, as if seriously considering the question before closing it again. “Nope.” 

Wukong blinked. 

“Why not?” 

“Don’t need to.” 

He frowned at that. “But aren’t you curious?” 

He opened one eye again, briefly before closing it again. “I guess. But I don’t want to push you into talking about it if you’d rather not.” 

Wukong looked down at his tea. 

That was good, right? That’s what he wanted. He didn’t want to talk about it. 

But then why was he… waiting for Sandy to ask him about it? 

To say no again? 

“Do you _want_ to talk about it?” 

Wukong looked up at him, blinking. 

Sandy was looking back at him, both eyes open this time, head tilted slightly as he waited patiently for his answer. 

His brows furrowed, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to figure out a response but coming up blank. 

Did he want to talk about it? 

_If it happened a long time ago, and it still bothers you, then maybe you should._

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly, looking at his wobbly reflection in his cup. 

Sandy hummed, closing his eyes again. “Well, when you figure it out, I’ll be here.” 

When. Not if. 

It was almost funny, how certain he was. 

It had been hundreds of years, and Wukong still hadn’t figured it out. He didn’t even know if he _could_.

He wanted to though. 

He looked up from his cup, clutching it tightly. 

“Ask me.” 

Sandy opened his eyes, and looked at him questioningly. 

Wukong kept his eyes on him firmly and forged ahead before he could change his mind. “Ask me one thing, and I’ll answer it.” 

Sandy studied him for a moment, and Wukong waited, tense. 

“Am I different than you remember?” 

Wukong stared at him, gaping slightly.

Sandy looked back at him calmly. 

Wukong nodded slowly, haltingly. “...yes.” 

“Hm,” Sandy said, then closed his eyes again. 

Well. That was two questions answered then.

His hands shook slightly, but a small orange cat meowed at him and made him give it pats until they stopped. 

After that, Wukong sipped his tea in the company of his reincarnated brother who didn’t remember him, but knew despite that lack of memory, and didn’t say anything until Pigsy dropped by the boat to check on them an hour or so later. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The same, but different. It was so hard, and yet frighteningly easy to fit into the corners of their lives; there, but not quite. Present, but not intruding, or at least he hoped.

Sandy hadn’t mentioned anything further, since the afternoon on the boat, Pigsy never said much of anything to him, and even Tang was oddly lacking in questions. He should have felt relieved, but instead it just felt like it was getting harder and harder to breathe. 

He didn't want to talk about it. 

Or maybe he did. 

What he didn’t know was if he was ready for their reactions, or if he even wanted them to know though. 

Sandy knew. He’d figured it out all on his own, and Wukong had confirmed it without actually confirming it, and he still wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He hadn’t given him much of a reaction to go off aside from a contemplative hum, so he had no idea how he felt about the whole situation. 

Sandy had always kept his thoughts to himself for the most part, listening to Pigsy and Wukong argue mostly. Wukong knew him well then, and wished he knew him better now. 

But he was a coward, so he didn’t. 

“You’ll burn through that cup if you keep staring at it so hard,” Pigsy said. 

Wukong glanced up at him from his stool, watching as he worked behind the counter of the shop. 

The early morning sun flooded through the windows, lighting up the shop, and the city was slowly coming to life. Mk would be downstairs in another hour or so to start the day, and Wukong would be gone by then, and Pigsy wouldn't mention that he’d ever been there. 

“You got something else you’d rather I stare at?”

Pigsy snorted as he pulled out a pan. 

A smile tugged at the corners of Wukong’s mouth. 

“You’d probably stare less if you got out whatever’s on your mind.” 

It was a casual, offhand comment that could be easily overlooked, but Wukong saw it for what it was: a suggestion, or maybe an offer. Maybe a bit of both. But casual enough that it wasn’t intrusive, or anything beyond a passing thought. 

“My family reincarnated.” 

To Pigsy’s credit, he only froze for a split second before he was back to what he was doing as though the brief halt had never occurred. 

“I didn’t,” he said, looking back down at the mug in his hands. He smiled wryly. “We didn’t part on the best of terms.” 

Pigsy set down the utensils he’d been holding, but still didn’t say anything, so Wukong continued. 

“I was angry.” He swirled the liquid in the cup, watching it swirl. “Didn’t say goodbye.” 

He felt Pigsy’s eyes on him then, but he didn’t look up. 

“Would you try and talk to them if you saw them? Or would they be better off without you in their lives? They left for a reason, right? Would an apology even matter if they didn’t remember?” 

He sighed, letting his head drop down against the counter with a dull _thunk_. 

“Would it be worse to just live with the guilt forever, or drag them back into the mess they just got away from?” 

The light traffic outside, and the low volume of chatter from the streets were the only sound in the shop for a few moments. 

“I can’t speak for them,” Pigsy started slowly, and Wukong almost wanted to laugh. “But I don’t think they were trying to get away from anything. Least of all you.” 

His eyes stung. 

“And I don’t think they would hold it against you either. Everybody gets angry. I get the feeling they forgave you the moment you turned around.” 

Wukong breathed, exhaling sharply, and his inhale was all shuddery and shaky, something a little too close to sob. His hands curled into firsts and he blinked back the tears that were burning his eyes. 

“You’re not a bad guy, monkey. Memories or no, anyone would be lucky to have ya around in their lives. I get the feeling they’d much rather have you with them than hiding out in a cave.” 

He was really crying now, shaking with suppressed sobs and gripping his arms tightly, hunching in on himself, and pressing his forehead against the counter hard enough that it creaked. 

“Come’ere,” he said, gruffly. He didn’t even notice Pigsy had walked around the counter until he was next to him and pulling him into a hug. 

He gripped the back of his shirt and trembled, trying to suppress his sobs. 

“I miss them,” he said in a whisper, the confession muffled against Pigsys’ shoulder. 

It hurt so much that he was right here, and yet wasn’t there at all. 

Pigsy just held him and let him cry.

  
  
  
  


Unseen, Mk sat on the stairs around the corner quietly, arms wrapped around his legs and chin resting on his knees and listened to his mentor shake apart. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sandy didn’t look surprised when he opened the door to find Wukong outside his boat. 

“I want to talk about it,” Wukong said. 

Sandy stepped aside, freeing up space in the doorway for Wukong to enter. 

He listened, and when Wukong was finished, he wrapped his arms around him in a hug before he could regret opening his mouth in the first place. 

He got a Sandy hug. 

It felt really good. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“How’d you figure it out?” he asked later, over a cup of tea. 

“It seemed pretty obvious,” Sandy admitted. “I mean, we literally have the same names.” 

Wukong laughed at that. “Yeah, to big of a coincidence for it not to mean anything, huh?” 

“That, and you kept looking at us. Wasn’t hard to put the pieces together after that.” 

“Mmm, Pigsy and Tang haven't figured it out yet.” 

“That’s because they’re still just as oblivious as they were before.” 

Wukong couldn't’ stop himself from laughing at that. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They talked about telling them for a while. Whether they should approach them about it, or just let them figure it out. 

In the end, Wukong decided he’d rather not feel guilty for basically lying to their faces for longer than he had to. 

When they finally made it to the shop, Sandy stood behind him, a supportive presence that was familiar, yet knew, and appreciated beyond words. 

Pigsy looked at them both warily and raised his eyebrow questioningly, eyes flicking down to where Wukong was fiddling with his fingers for a moment. 

He stood there for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t really planned on what he was going to say. 

Pigsy watched him. 

Wukong opened his mouth, then closed it again. 

“...oh,” murmured Pigsy, looking at him. He could see the realization flicker in his eyes. 

He gave him a wobbly smile. “It’s weird, I know.” 

“Nah,” Pigsy said slowly, still looking at him. “Kinda makes sense, actually. Explains a few things.” 

“Like the peaches?” Wukong asked, almost jokingly, thinking of what Tang had mentioned. 

Pigsy nodded slowly. “Peaches.” 

  
  
  
  
  


“So this was what that apology on the roof was about, huh.” 

“...yeah. Sorry about that.” 

“Apology accepted.” 

Wukong blinked. 

“I’m him, ain’t I? You said we had a fight.” 

“I--” 

“Apology accepted. Now stop feeling guilty or I’ll throw something at ya.” 

He gave a disbelieving laugh. 

A massive weight lifted off his shoulders. 

“Thanks, Pigsy.” 

“You’re welcome, Monkey.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Tang was a little harder. 

He paced back and forth across the apartment six times before whirling around and looking at the three of them. “And we’re sure it’s _me?_ ” 

Sandy and Pigsy glanced at Wukong, looking for confirmation and he nodded. “Same eyes.” 

Tang ran his hand through his hair, glasses slightly askew. 

“I’m gosh dang, freaking Tripitaka,” he breathed incredulously.

Pigsy snorted. 

Tang looked at them. “I think I might need to sit down.” 

It was the only warning they got before he was falling, and Wukong was there in an instant to keep him from hitting the ground. And a couple pats to the cheek had him waking up again. 

“Did you seriously faint?” 

“Shut up, Pigsy! I’m a reincarnated legendary figure, I’m allowed to be freaking out!” 

“Group hug!” declared Sandy, and he wasted no time in scooping them all into his arms, and crushing them in a hug. 

Tang wheezed, Pigsy struggled, kicking and cursing, and Wukong laughed and laughed. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“Don’t think this is gonna make me go easy on ya for stealing my noodles.” 

“Pigsy! Is that anyway to talk to your Master--” 

“Call yourself that again, and I’m kicking ya out of the apartment.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Mk only looked shocked to see him inside the noodle shop with everyone for a split second before he was grinning and rushing forward excitedly. 

“Monkey King! You’re here!” 

“Had a free second, and thought I’d drop by,” he said with a smile. 

“Like you ever have a busy second,” Pigsy huffed. “You have nothing better to do.” 

“I resent that comment.” 

“Go eat your fruit, monkey.” 

Wukong munched on his peach. 

  
  
  
  
  


Mk startled him with a hug a little later in the evening, when everyone was distracted by one of Mei’s video’s. 

“What’s this for?” he asked, chuckling. 

“Nothing,” Mk said, hugging him tighter. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah.” Wukong exhaled, resting a hand on his back to return the hug. “Me too, bud.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


“WHAT?” Mk shrieked. “ _WHAT?!_ ” 

“Calm down, kid,” Pigsy grumbled from behind the counter. “You’re gonna wake up the whole street.” 

“ _WHAT?_ ” said Mk, a third time. 

Wukong laughed. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They weren’t exactly the same, and he didn’t expect them to be. They were different people, but still his family at their core, and he cared about them more than anything. He counted himself lucky to be a part of their lives in whatever way he could. 

The ache wasn’t completely gone, but somehow it got a little easier to live when surrounded by people who meant the world to him. 

Sun Wukong had messed up a lot in his life, but he had people who were willing to forgive him for that, and let him learn and grow; his family was still there for him, albeit a little different, and with new additions, but still entirely his and still worth loving. 

And that made it worth living. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Whew, that was a wild ride. (How many typos are there, I haven't checked xD aslkdmfawe) Welcome to the end, GO DRINK SOME WATER. Thanks for reading skldmafewf If you wanna drop a comment I will love you forever, HAVE A GOOD DAY, YOU ARE AMAZING, AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT <3


End file.
